


Twister

by RZZMG



Series: Hermione x Draco stories [26]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, F/M, Games, Loss of Virginity, Out of Character, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-21
Updated: 2011-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-23 22:25:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/255709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RZZMG/pseuds/RZZMG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the night before graduation. Final papers have been turned in and graded and N.E.W.T.s are over. Now it’s time to relax and enjoy the end-of-year House parties. The Hogwarts staff have the night off as they please, the castle ghosts are living up The Fat Friar’s Death Day in the dungeon, Filch and Pince are off “having a wee nip” at The Three Broomsticks, and curfews have been extended to one o’clock in the morning for this special occasion. In the Slytherin common room, a huge Twister mat has been set out, and Draco’s about to face his greatest challenge yet, writhing around on the floor with a bunch of half-naked, oiled women in skimpy swim suits. Man, maintaining a ‘Sex God’ reputation when you’re a virgin can be the most exhausting experience of a guy’s life! Can he keep three of the hottest witches in school from taking from him the one thing he’s always wanted to give to the only woman of his dreams? Slip on your bathing trunks and bikinis and break out the oil, because it’s time for some slippery fun, snake-style!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twister

**Author's Note:**

> This story was my entry to the DEFLOWERING DRACO FEST CHALLENGE (June-August, 2011). I went with this prompt:
> 
> #17 Prompt: House Rivalry  
> Ship: Draco/Pansy, Draco/Hermione, Draco/Padma Patil, Draco/Susan Bones  
> Additional comments: Four girls in Malfoy's year, from each of the four houses, each decide they want to lose their virginity to the Slytherin Sex God - before the others do. Trouble is, he's got a secret of his own.
> 
> Timeline & Story Details: Hogwarts 7th Year – Alternate Universe (Voldemort never existed. Harry’s parents were killed in an accident in the Department of Mysteries; they heroically saved the entire wizarding world from the Love Chamber – a.k.a. The Ever-Locked Room – opening up when a too-curious Unspeakable figured out a way to get in. As a result of their sacrifice, they are celebrated heroes, and Harry is famous only as their surviving son. Our cast of characters, therefore, experienced the typical teenage angst that occurs in high school with Quidditch rivalries, House parties, potions and spell accidents, sneaking out after curfew, hooking-up, jockeying for academic position, and lots of ridiculous gossip. No war. No Death Eaters. Sadly, pure-blood bigotry and a healthy House rivalry still exist, though.). Characters are OOC (out-of-character) because of the plot.
> 
> Check out the images to go along with this fic (character models, outfits, story banners): http://s905.photobucket.com /albums/ac260/RZZMG/Twister
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Please review and let me know, yeah?
> 
> This story is dedicated to the SHOUTBOX over at Hawthorn & Vine, especially “The Smut Must Flow Coalition” – Unseenlibrarian (my fabulous, most wonderful beta in the whole wide world – I adore you, dahling, and thank you for making this story polished and shiny!), phlox, pagan, Misdemeanor1331, MiHnn, and alina290 – all of whom provided excellent prompts for me to work on for the smut scene in this story.

 

* * *

  
**_Friday, the 5 th of June, 1998_**

 

“Granger, what the _fuck?_ ”

Walking into the end-of-year House party in his common room, Draco had expected a Bacchanalian feast for the eyes, but seeing the Head Girl bent over in a sexy, white bikini, her light golden skin oiled up and shimmering from the magically-lit fire in the Slytherin hearth was enough to explode his trousers.

Holy shite, she had a gorgeous body! It wasn’t like he didn’t _know_ she did, having spied on her a few times in the Prefects’ Bath over the years, but she’d been covered up for most of this, their last year, and tonight was the first time he’d had the reminder in his face in at least seven months.

 _Wouldn’t it be great to just peel those two thin layers away, my boy,_ the Devil on his left shoulder cooed in his ear. _Think about it: those tight, pink nipples just begging to be kissed, and that pretty kitty of hers mewling for a good tonguing? You’ve seen it all. You know how delicious it would be with a chick like her._

 _For shame,_ the Angel on his right shoulder countered. _Objectifying the woman you’re in love with like that. You should show her proper respect! She’s a unique beauty with a mind and magical prowess that are unmatched amongst your peers._

 _Yeah, and what prowess!_ the Devil purred.

“Malfoy, go get your swim trunks and a towel, and come join the fun!” a half-naked Theo encouraged from his awkward position on the floor next to the oversized, queerly spotted mat. “This Muggle game is the shite!”

“Where did the furniture go?” he asked, working at unknotting his tie. Having just come from his final exit interview with Snape where they discussed his upcoming three-year apprenticeship to the Potions Master to achieve an accreditation, he was still dressed in his school uniform.

Nott motioned to the adjoining room to the right of the entry. Coming down the marble stairs, Draco peered around the corner and noted most of the furniture from the main room stacked neatly atop each other in a corner, stretching all the way to the ceiling. “We needed the space,” his friend explained.

He wasn’t kidding. The common areas – both rooms – were filled with students in various states of dress, talking and laughing up a storm. In the opposite corner from the hearth, a group of five blokes had set up a Kings n’ Cups card game, and were betting the last of their allowances into the pot. The scent of cheroot was in the air, along with the smells of colognes and perfumes, of strong alcohol and too many bodies pressed together into an enclosed space. Oh, and honey-sandalwood massage oil. That last was coming from the group playing the bizarre Muggle game in front of the fireplace.

“What’s the game?” Draco asked, sauntering up to Theo’s side. He waved his wand at the mat. “What is this thing?”

“It’s Twister!” a wickedly grinning, adorably swimsuit-clad Susan Bones commented as she struggled to hold her precarious stance. Legs splayed wide open, feet resting on opposite sides of the mat upon two different colored spots, and bent over at the waist with her right hand on a spot directly next to Potter’s left foot, her small hand-full of breasts swayed temptingly in their barely-there outfit.

“With a twist,” the Weaselette chimed in. “Ha! I made a funny!” She snorted at her own cleverness.

“All players have to slick up with massage oil before Theo spins the arrow to determine where you’re supposed to move,” Wayne Hopkins cheerfully supplied on the other side of Harry. He, too, was dressed in sluggos, like all the guys playing the game. “That way, if you have to touch, it becomes hard not to slip and fall.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Potter glanced up at him. “Oil Wrestling Twister! Should have thought up this variation before – so much better than the original!”

“Come play with us,” Pansy Parkinson offered, her bum touching Hopkins’ arm, her bikini top threatening to slip off one rounded shoulder. She cast a sinful smirk Draco’s way. “The more the merrier, lover boy.”

Theo flicked the spinner and grinned as it came to a stop on… “Zabini: left hand, green.”

“Oh, damn,” his best friend murmured from amongst the tangle of limbs and bodies. “Parkinson, love, spread those luscious legs. I’m coming through.”

There was some shifting from the far edge of the mat, Pans let out an “oooh!” in delight, and then Blaise’s dark head appeared from between her thighs. His shite-eating grin said it all. “Mate, you’ve got to get in on this.”

 _Yeah, get in on it,_ the Devil encouraged. _House unity, and all that crike. Maybe we can score enough ‘rub points’ to convince Granger to come back to our room later…_

 _Are you serious about losing your virginity tonight - like this?_ the Angel demanded. _I thought you wanted it to mean something._

 _It will mean something – a memory we’ll take with us after tomorrow’s done,_ the Devil countered. _Stop being such a prig and get with the program, mate! This may be your last chance to bonk the Head Girl._

 _How juvenile,_ the Angel huffed in self-righteous indignation. _If you truly loved her as you profess, you’ll court her as appropriate to both of your stations in life._

The Devil made a shooing motion to the Angel. _Beat it, killjoy. You’re messing up our vibe._

Theo spun the plastic arrow again. “Granger: right hand, red.”

Draco watched as his lovely Princess giggled, and arched over the tail end of Zabini’s body to meet the requirements of her turn. Her barely-covered breasts rubbed against his best friend’s bare back and Blaise chuckled in that seductive tone that Draco had heard him use one too many times with other ladies.

 _Oh, hell no!_ he thought, already unbuttoning his shirt. He pointed at Nott. “Count me in. I’ll be back in five.”

He raced up through the common area and down the stairs into the dormitories, taking the left-hand path to the boys’ rooms. Zipping left then right, he hurried through the twisty labyrinth to his room, threw open the door and skirted across to his dresser, his shirt off and tossed onto his bed. He toed off his shoes, unbuckled his belt and took down his trousers and peeled his socks, leaving his clothing strewn everywhere in his rush. Opening the third drawer down, he rifled through and found his swim trunks and a tank top. Shucking his pants, he slipped his budgie smugglers up, threw on the tank, and found his shower thongs under his bed for his feet.

On the way out the door, he grabbed a freshly laundered towel from the built-in shelving unit that he and his roommates used for their bathing kits, and remembered to _Accio_ his wand to hand from where he’d dropped it along with his slacks.

Scuttling back through the maze and up into the common area had hardly winded him; his intense Quidditch paces and all of the stair-climbing in this castle gave him a greater workout on a daily basis.

“And he’s back,” Theo announced, and a rousing cheer came from the other players. “Right, so why don’t we start over everyone, as the male to female ratio just evened out, making it fairer?” He rallied them, apparently the elected Keeper of the game. “Everyone up!”

The tangle of bodies unlocked amongst giggling, full-out laughter and a few apologies as people bumped into each other.

When everyone was back up on their feet, they gathered around Nott, who gestured them closer. “Okay, so for the sake of the new player, let’s go through the rules again,” the tall, rakish wizard addressed the group. “It’s simple really: I send this thing on a whirl,” he held up the colorful cardboard game piece with the arrow spinner in the middle, “and I’ll call out your names in order and you’re to put your hand or foot – whichever I tell you - on any open space of the mat that you can reach, on the color I specifically call out. Your knees, elbows and back can’t touch the floor. You can move around other players’ bodies to get to the space you need, but you can’t intentionally push them. Once you lift your hand or foot off the spot you’re on, you’re committed to moving it. Whatever spot you then touch of your designated color, you’re stuck with it – no changing your mind or calling foul. If you break the rules or fall, you’re out. Last one standing wins.”

“What’s the prize for winning?” Draco asked, rubbing his hands together.

Theo grinned and wagged his eyebrows. “Zabini offered up a bottle of Reserve Ogden’s from his stash.”

“Dreadfully dull prize, if you ask me,” the She-Weasel piped in, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.

“Well, what do _you_ suggest, then?” Granger queried.

The redheaded witch made a cute moue with her heart-shaped mouth as she considered an option. “Well, how about instead of alcohol, the winner gets to claim the witch or wizard of their choice from amongst those playing the game for a one-hour snog-out session?” she suggested.

Draco felt his smirk crawl along his cheek. “I second that suggestion,” he stated, knowing for whom he’d be gunning.

“Hear, hear,” Parkinson chimed, holding her hand up in agreement.

Theo glanced at the group down the line. “Are we all agreed then? Winner gets a snog session for an hour with the player of your choice – and the one picked can’t back out, regardless of gender or personal preference?”

Everyone looked from one to the other, and all nodded. “Agreed,” was the word off every set of lips.

And just like that, the deal was struck.

“Wait just a mo’, me laddie! If we’re all meat on a hook, then I say you’re a slab alongside, too,” Hopkins grinned at the game director. He put his arms around a Patil and Weasley to either side of him and squeezed them close. “’Cause, you know, I’m sure one of these lovely ladies is just _dying_ to polish the ol’ Nott knob.”

Their charismatic leader rolled his eyes and smirked. “Yeah, sure, I’ll dangle my bits on the line, too. Happy?”

“Welcome to the slaughter with the rest of us lambs!” Wayne laughed.

Patil glared at the wizard and elbowed him in the gut – hard. “I’ll slaughter _you_ with a good hex, Hopkins, if you sneakily reach to pull my halter strap down one more time!”

Whistling an innocent tune, the guy pulled his hand away as quick as if burned and gave her a conciliatory smile.

“Right, so, same line-up as before, only Malfoy will be last now, after Padma,” Theo declared. “Anyone need to oil up before we begin?” he asked.

Draco held his hand out for the bottle and his friend slapped it into his palm.

“I accidentally rubbed some off when I fell getting up,” Granger stated, sauntering over to him for the bottle and held out her hand. “When you’re done, that is.”

 _Perfect opportunity, mate!_ The Devil called out the obvious, salivating at Hermione’s outfit: a lovely two-piece that had a pretty flare of ruffles. It revealed a tantalizing bit, but left just enough covered for the imagination to run wild. He loved it on her.

“Turn around, pet,” he instructed, dropping his voice into that husky, low register he’d practiced and perfected over the years when talking to girls.

The witch who had haunted his dreams since he’d been fourteen considered his offer, her rich, earthy gaze meeting his without flinching. Then, to his surprise, she smiled and did as he wished without complaint, lifting her long, curly hair off her back to drape over one shoulder.

 _Be reverent,_ the Angel reminded him with a swift kick to the side of his head. _No embarrassing her in front of others._

Stepping so close that there was only inches between their bodies, Draco poured a dollop of oil into the palm of his hand and leaned his mouth down to hover near her exposed ear. “Where do you want it?” he asked, the double entendre smoothly delivered.

“Anywhere you want,” she replied, her voice gone soft as she turned into him slightly. “Just be gentle.”

His lips brushed against the whorl of her ear purely by accident, but the timing was perfect, making it seem as though he’d pressed a very light kiss to the spot. “Whatever you need, pet.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him and gave a quiet, little laugh. “The rumors are true, it seems. You’re really very good at charming the ladies, aren’t you?”

If he wasn’t trying to maintain the performance of his life as a suave, sophisticated, _experienced_ wizard, he might have just given his hand away with a nervous laugh. Sure, he was great at chatting up the birds, and even with the snogging, but as for the rest…

Pans had done him a great disservice in lying to people about losing her virginity to him back in their fourth year, and in perpetuating the myth that he was some kind of bedroom genius all these years since. A prime example of his greatly exaggerated reputation backfiring on him had been Granger’s continued refusal to accept his offers for a date for the past year. It also caused him to be continually, openly lusted after by chicks he wasn’t even marginally attracted to – like Eloise Midgen, Marietta Edgecombe, Lavender Brown, and even Millicent Bulstrode once. He didn’t mind so much the girls who were half-decent, as he’d learned a lot about snogging from them, but they always wanted more, and he hadn’t been willing to give something as important as his first experience with intercourse to just anyone. Besides, he’d always harbored a wish to give it to one specific witch in particular…

As he gently rubbed the oil across Hermione’s waist, he gathered his bravado and met her gaze. “Would you like to find out later?”

Granger did not reply to the offer by the time he’d finished, but she gave him an inviting smile to indicate a curiosity to the proposition.

She moved off as Theo directed the game action, randomly lining the ten players up on three of the four sides of the mat. “Everyone knows the rules, so without further ado...” He flicked the arrow and it spun about wildly for a second before slowing, and eventually stopping altogether. “Parkinson: left hand, blue,” Nott directed.

Pansy looked about the board for the nearest blue – which happened to be right in front of her feet, as she was standing at the top of the mat - and did as required.

Play commenced in a pattern of girl-boy-girl-boy: Pansy, then Potter, followed by the She-Weasel and Blaise, then Granger and Hopkins, Bones and Boy-Weasel, then Padma Patil. Finally, it was his turn.

“Malfoy: left foot, yellow.”

He found an open spot nearby that didn’t require any serious stretching and plunked his proper foot down… right next to Susan Bones.

“Hi,” she turned to talk to him, a brazen flirt in her smiling eyes. “Seems we’re neighbors.”

Never really having spoken to the girl before (he made it a habit not to get too involved with Hufflepuffs as a general rule), Draco was surprised to find Susan Bones to be altogether unlike the other witches in her House, in that she was actually quite witty, not dunderheaded and shy. They spoke in quiet whispers about their plans after graduation, and then it was her turn to move.

“Bones: right foot, green.”

Lucky for her, the spot directly in front of her was open and she took it. “Still neighbors,” she teased, and Draco couldn’t help but notice how pretty the thin, leggy blonde was. The bathing suit she wore did nothing to show secret, sexy skin, but it was femininely alluring – much as she projected overall.

Across the way, he spied Granger in animated conversation with Zabini, but several times caught her sneaking a look over at him. Apparently, his discussion with Bones pricked her jealousy a smidge – much as hers did with Blaise each time she laughed at something the charismatic Italian said. He could see the evidence in the crease of her forehead as her eyes swung in his direction.

Dare he hope that the Head Girl might actually have feelings for him?

“Malfoy: right foot, red.”

Jerked back into the action, he glanced over and noticed that the column of red dots were two rows over. “Looks like I’m moving to a new address,” he joked with Susan. “I’ll owl you once I’m settled.”

“Do that,” she smiled at him.

As he made to regain his height and step away, he felt a small stroke across his arse, and nearly stumbled right there in shock - which would have instantly disqualified him. He managed to make it look like he’d carelessly slipped on some residual oil on the mat from last game as he recovered, thankfully. Finding the dot he wanted for his foot, he took the position, straddling two rows and looked to the side at Bones. The sweet, demure Hufflepuff apparently was anything but by the heated gaze she threw his way. She licked her lips in a suggestive manner, and from the angle of her body, he could just picture her sucking cock…

 _Quit the ‘typical male’ stereotype,_ the Angel remonstrated. _I thought you were enamored of a certain curly-haired Gryffindor? It’s the fickle heart that loses at love, you know._

 _Give us a break. It was just a thought!_ the Devil argued. _Can we help it if the blonde is throwing us sign and looks good doing it? How is it possible to not notice something that blatant anyway? We’re smitten, not blind._

 _No, you’re twisted - that’s what you are,_ the Angel decided with a final harrumph.

After three more complete turns, everyone was fully on the board and the contortions had begun. Draco found his hands to either side of Potter’s hairy left leg (definitely not a place he’d ever wanted to end up), while Padma Patil straddled his extended right leg. Unfortunately, Granger was on the opposite end of the board, arse to end with her ex-Weasel, Wayne’s legs to either side of hers while he rested back on his wrists. The guy was shaking with the effort of holding his weight up in such a precarious position.

“Hopkins: right foot, yellow.”

 “Bloody hell, I think this one might do me in,” Wayne cheerfully predicted, widening his left leg to reach a yellow dot. Unfortunately, his wrists gave out and his bottom touched the mat. “Shite! I’m out,” he laughed, rolling away and reaching for his towel to rub the oil from his skin. “Oh, well. Luck all! Think I’ll go watch the Exploding Snap in the next room. Call me if one of you sexy witches wins and wants a good snoggin’!”

Everyone wished him a hearty, “Later,” and “See you,” as he sauntered off to find his entertainment elsewhere.

The game continued, and by the next round, Patil was crouched nose-to-nose with him. “Well, hello there,” she purred, her alluring, almond-shaped eyes narrowing to half-mast with sultry heat. “I was hoping to get this close to you tonight… maybe even _a lot_ closer.”

Draco’s panic button was hit, as her lips inched forward towards his. He leaned his head as far back as he could go, but she kept right on coming. Clearly, Patil was on a mission for a kiss, but Draco hadn’t been sorted into Slytherin for nothing. He dodged left, then right, and finally pushed his face past her neck to bury in her hairline, hoping to deter her.

“My, how forward of you, Malfoy,” she murmured in his ear around a soft moan. “I like an assertive male. How about you? Do you like your women aggressive?”

“Uh…”

Before he could finish that thought, she sunk her teeth right into the side of his throat, biting down over his pulse point and sucking hard. Draco’s eyes rolled back into his head at the electric sensation that shot from the area covered by her lips straight down his spine and into his cock.

 _Oh, yeah, this is more like it,_ the Devil crooned, egging him on to bite back. _Just a little taste. Harmless, really._

 _You vacillating, unreliable, walking boner! How dare you do this, and in front of the girl you professed to love,_ the Angel chastised, smacking him on the nose. _Well, there’s no hiding the evidence now… and she’s probably caught the show, too._

Shite! He was hard as a rock, and his swim trunks didn’t have enough support for such a blaring fact not to show. Worse, his neck was sure to have teeth imprints! Slytherin’s soul, what if Granger saw? Time to cover his tracks… “Let go, you harpy!” he growled, inadvertently drawing everyone’s attention. “Get your rabid teeth out of my neck!”

Patil’s lock on his neck let go, and she flinched as if he’d smacked her across the face.

“Theo, I call foul! She bit me! She’s trying to get me to fall.” He gave the witch a disapproving frown. “Bloody hell, woman, what were you thinking?”

Tears of humiliation filled Padma’s eyes. “I-I-I thought…” In mortification, she stood up, her hands flying to cover her mouth, and was automatically disqualified from the game. “I thought you were into… she said you’d like it!” Her gaze flew to Granger, Bones, the She-Weasel and Parkinson before aligning back on his face. “Oh, I’ve made a mess of this and now I’m out! Krishna’s heart, I’m sorry!” Collecting her towel and sandals, she hurried from the Slytherin common room with tears in her eyes, making fast her escape.

None of the contestants spoke for the space of a few heartbeats, as everyone was too shocked by what had just happened to immediately react.

Draco’s suspicious nature rose to the front. So, who was this mysterious ‘she’ who’d told Patil to take a chomp out of his throat anyway, and why would ‘she’ think it would be good for Ravenclaw’s top girl to do so? Was it one of the women in the game, and if so, which one? Was it the same ‘she’ who’d maybe clued Bones in that patting his arse would be a good icebreaker, too?

The King Weasel broke the silent stalemate. “Godric’s rod, Malfoy, did she really bite you?”

He nodded. “Sunk her teeth right in. Am I bleeding?” he asked Theo, tilting his neck for his friend to check.

Nott shook his head, his amused grin taking up the majority of space on his stupid face. “The imprint will fade – not deep enough.” He turned to the rest of the group. “New rule: no biting – unless someone asks you to. That goes for other kinds of kink, too. The first years are still up and about. Wouldn’t do for them to get too early an education.”

Everyone chuckled, and the moment thankfully passed without further comment. Play commenced.

“Weaselette: left foot, red.”

Within three more turns, Draco was in the awkward position of being arched over Pansy’s back, his two hands on one side of her body, while his feet were solidly on the other. From this angle, he couldn’t see Granger, but at last glimpse, she was two rows off to his left and was squatting on four dots that were next to each other. Potter was to her right, tangled up with Susan Bones.

“Well, my silver-eyed Dragon,” Slytherin’s undisputed Queen smirked at him as she turned her head. “Seems you’re always getting into some sort of trouble, aren’t you?”

Draco sighed. “Yeah, well, I have you to thank for it, I believe.” They both knew that it was _her_ rumor about his sexual expertise that had chicks like Patil believing he was an easy mark.

His ex-girlfriend laughed, and it was a rich, sinful sound. “Then perhaps you owe me.”

It was clear what she was insinuating. “Pans, we’ve been down that road-” he whispered so that only she could hear, trying to get her to understand.

“Not recently,” she pointed out in the same hushed volume. “Things change, you know, even when they remain the same.” She glanced about, but they were safely being ignored by those closest to them, and so pressed her face closer to his. “I’ve waited for _you_ ,” she spoke so softly that it was hardly a breath of air.

The implication was clear: she was still a virgin and she wanted him to do something about it, preferably tonight.

Bloody hell, this wasn’t just one of her games, was it? He wouldn’t just be a conquest that she would pen into her private journal for reminiscing later in life: _“June the fifth, nineteen-hundred and ninety-eight: cherry popped by Draco Malfoy - on his eighteenth birthday, no less!”_ She had real, deep feelings for him, perhaps even fancied herself in love with him! He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Staring into her earnest, sable eyes, Draco tried to imagine the possibilities…

He could quit right now, drag Pansy downstairs to his room, and she’d willingly let him shag her into his mattress. She’d let him do anything he wanted to her, and he could live out practically all of his greatest wank fantasies in one fell swoop. The best part was he’d be rid of the heavy weight of his secret – virgin no more. He’d be able to look Zabini and Nott in the eye and tell them the truth for once.

 _Yeah, that’s right! She’s dying for you, man,_ the Devil egged him on. _She’s even waited to give it up to you! Now’s your chance to get in some practice so when you take that little lioness of yours…_

 _You’re despicable!_ The Angel censured. _You’d break three hearts for the sake of a few minutes of feeling good!_

The Devil shrugged his tiny shoulders, his long, thin tail wagging back and forth _. It would be Heaven, though. Even someone like you can dig that._

 _Oh! I can’t believe you’d… Augh!_ The Angel choked back his ire. _You really are a foul, loathsome-_

 _Hey, hey, now,_ the Devil managed to sound and appear affronted. _No need to drag up the past. Besides, I’m a guy. I’m horny. This is what we do._

 _Pah! What you do is ruin the better opportunities by being too rash and too interested in what goes on between your legs,_ the Angel sniffed. _Do what you both want. You’re going to anyway. Just don’t come crying to me later._

His better-half was right: if he and Pans had it off, it would ruin their friendship – and any chance he might have with Granger in the future. He cared for Parkinson as she’d been his friend since they’d been young children, but he didn’t love her. To take advantage of her might be the Slytherin thing to do, but in this case, the ends wouldn’t justify the means. He’d lose all around once the fallout hit. The better plan was to stay the course.

Regretfully, he shook his head. “I’m really sorry, Pans, but it’s just not there for me,” he murmured into her ear. “I won’t take advantage of your feelings like that. You’re too good a friend.”

With a pained guilt, he watched the hope die in her eyes. Covering up her weakness, Pansy looked away. “It’s _her_ , isn’t it? Granger. I’ve seen you watching her for a long time now. I _know_.”

The guilt burned through his belly. “Pans…”

“Right.” She cut him off, nodding once in acceptance of the situation, and promptly fell to her knees. “Whoopsie!” she managed, forcing light-heartedness into her voice. “Just couldn’t hold that pose any longer.” Crawling out from under him, she turned to gather her things at the edge of the mat. “Sorry about that. I guess I’m out, too.” Patting her face with the towel, Draco knew she was fast drying her tears, hiding her feelings away behind the Slytherin mask she’d learned to wear so well over the years. With false cheer, she turned back to the group. “Bored now. Time to find new trouble to get into. Ta-ta!”

With a wink and a wave over her shoulder, she strolled off towards the dormitories, shoulders back and head held high.

“And then there were seven,” Theo gaily announced and spun the arrow with a forceful tap. “So, it was Zabini’s turn: left hand, blue, mate.”

Able to relax into a crouch, Draco stared across the four rows to his best friend, who looked about, spied that the nearest blue was behind him – and would force him to form a backwards arch to reach - and he smiled, deciding it was too much. “I think I’ve reached my daily quota for sinuous disfigurement. I’m out, too,” he announced, crawling through the tangle of limbs and making his feet. “Have fun, all!” he threw over his shoulder as he grabbed his towel and clothing, and followed Pans into the depths of the dorms.

“We’re whittling down the roster, folks,” Nott merrily verified. “Six of you left. Who will come out on top – literally?”

In the next round, Ron Weasley tipped over, unable to get that gangly-limbed, bulky muscled frame to do the splits. He laughed, his face flaring a brilliant red, making his freckles stand out. “Bloody shame! Well, guess I’ll go for a drink. Call me if you need me,” he announced, and headed for the adjacent room to where, presumably, a refreshments table had been set out.

By this time, Draco was nearing Hermione’s location - finally. They were one row away from each other, and he had a perfect view of her bum from where he was crouching. Unable to wipe his chin (taking your hands off a space was automatic disqualification) he had to forcibly keep the drool in check.

“Granger: right hand, green.”

Gryffindor’s Princess giggled and stretched her required limb though the middle of Potter’s legs. “Coming through, Harry!” To Draco’s chagrin, this put her face right up next to Scarhead’s crotch. Luckily for them all, Potter noticed and jerked back – right into Ginny Weasley. The two tumbled to the mat in an embarrassing fall that ended with the She-Weasel’s bikini top shifting so that her left breast was fully exposed.

“Oh!” she cried out in scandalous mortification and shoved Potter off to readjust her boob. The damage had been done though.

 _Did you see that? Wow, what nips on that one!_ the Devil leered with glee.

 _Eyes forward,_ the Angel gnashed his teeth at his adversary. _We saw nothing of the sort. Nothing, you hear?_

“Gin! I’m so sorry!” Harry apologized, rolling to his feet and helping his girlfriend to hers. “Merlin, are you okay?”

Huffing at the hair in her face, blowing it aside, the She-Weasel took the proffered hand and got up. “I’m fine. Looks like we lose, though. And I was so looking forward to snogging you all night, too!”

With a naughty grin (the Devil made a gagging noise), Potter drew his witch into his arms. “We don’t really need the game for that, now do we?” He waggled his eyebrows (the Devil retched again) and whisked his lady up into his arms and off the mat. “Come on, let’s head for home, love.”

With an excited squeal (the Devil turned green around the gills and called for an Antiemetic) _,_ Ginny Weasley hurried gathered her things, and when the two were ready, they called out a “see you later, guys!” to the others and headed up the stairs and out of the Slytherin common room, apparently heading for either her or his bed in Gryffindor Tower.

Theo chuckled. “Three left. Any of you want to quit now?” At the round of shaking heads, he clapped his hands together. “Okay, so to make this work, you three come off the mat and I’ll spin new starting points for you. You’ll use only this half of the mat.” He indicated the four rows of colored dots on the left side.

When they proceeded to do as Nott wanted, he spun the arrow. “Granger: right foot, yellow.”

She chose a nearby spot at the top of the mat.

“Bones: right hand, blue.”

She picked the spot to Granger’s left.

“Malfoy: left hand, green.”

He purposefully chose the spot on the exact other side of Hermione, effectively boxing her in.

Play continued for four more rounds before Susan was intricately wrapped around his legs, one of her feet between both of his, the other on the opposite side of his left foot. Granger was behind him somewhere, but he couldn’t really see her.

By now, the crowd of spectators had grown, so that most of those still hanging around the Slytherin common room or adjoining area had circled the mat and were cat-calling. Some were even placing bets on who would win.

Theo spun the arrow. “Malfoy: left foot, yellow.”

He turned to look over his shoulder, spying that the closest yellow spot that was open was directly behind him – and right up against Granger’s arse, as she was bent over at the waist. He moved very carefully so as not to spook her and cause her to tumble back into him. He wanted to win this challenge no matter what, and if he fell now, he was out. The new angle split his legs far enough for him to worry about ripping the seam on his trunks, but he made it.

The sound of the spinner moving came from behind him. “Granger: left foot, red.”

Shite! In order to pull that off, she’d have to stretch into an almost impossible angle, crossing all four rows – and putting her pussy right in his face, and her arse into Susan’s.

Looking between her legs to gauge the option, he met her eye and threw her a challenging smirk. “Dare you to do it.”

If there was one thing Draco knew about Gryffindors, it was that they were notoriously reckless and bold. Passing up a public challenge was almost sacrilege to the members of their House. Granger may have been incredibly brilliant, but was also rather prideful and audacious enough to attempt what he’d provoked. Of course, it helped that the audience got in on the goading.

“Come on, ‘Mione! Show him what-for!” Lavender Brown encouraged her from the sidelines.

A tipsy Justin Finch-Fletchley mocked the proceedings. “Naw, she won’t do it. Look at where her crotch would end up! Too priggish to try it, I’ll bet.”

“Bet ya a galleon she not only does it, but sticks it, too,” Seamus Finnigan offered.

The hefty Miss Millicent Bulstrode pushed through the boys and stuck her hand out to Finnigan. “I’ll take that bet. No way old ‘Iron-Knickers’ tries it, much less makes it.”

“Yer on!” Finnigan shook. Brown also reached out to accept the bet.

“I’m in on that,” Justin barked, tipping his drink up in salute.

Weasley passed with a goofy grin. “I like my money right where it’s at, thanks. I think ‘Mione can do it, though.”

“We’re with Millie,” Greg Goyle announced, shoving the crowd aside to stand behind his Housemate, Vincent Crabbe in tow. “Me and Crabbe are in on the bet, too.”

That set-off a flurry of gambling call-outs, and somehow Ernie Macmillan, the Head Boy, ended up inserting himself as the bookie. The betting fever got as high as eight galleons before Theo called an end to it and required Granger to either move or forfeit.

Draco’s grin was starting to hurt his face. “Well, Miss Prim and Starched, are you in or out?”

She narrowed her eyes at him and sighed. “I hate to borrow a cliché from Ron, but in this situation, his overall estimation of you seems a fairly appropriate assessment, Malfoy: you suck, you know?”

He gave her his super, ultra special serpentine smile. “I’m told I’m not too bad at the licking thing either.”

Okay, so it was a lie – he’d never actually been verbally complimented on his oral talent. However, the times he’d gone down on his various girlfriends and eaten their pussies (in an effort to stave off their interest for actual intercourse) had left his witches more than replete, insofar as he could tell from their moans and cries and sated smiles in the during and after bits. Still, the fib had been well worth the reaction he’d received: Granger’s face turned an interesting shade of pink and she wet her lips, a hunger igniting in her gaze.

 _Did you see that?_ the Devil piped up. _Oh, yeah – she wants us!_ He strutted around on Draco’s shoulder, doing a little happy dance and flexing his arm muscles.

 _I told you it was a good idea to turn down Miss Bones, Miss Patil, and Miss Parkinson,_ the Angel congratulated his cleverness. _Just think of what we might have missed if you’d followed your penis, rather than your conscience._

 _Stuff it, Mr. Maidenhead,_ the Devil snarled. _You couldn’t get laid if you were paid. We’re on the gold track now, so why don’t you go take a hike down Lovers Lane and leave our raunchy selves alone?_

The Angel mumbled something about ‘oversexed fiends,’ but went silent as it concentrated at what Granger was about to do.

Sucking in a lungful of air, his witch lifted her left foot, shifting her weight onto her other three limbs, and slowly moved it past him towards its ultimate destination. She’d almost made it, too, except something happened then that no one had expected: Susan sneezed.

Concentration momentarily broken, Granger teetered, her weight shifted and she tumbled down to her elbow. “Buggering hell!” she swore, and there was a chorus of groans from the losers of the bet, followed by cheers from the winners.

Punching a fist down in disappointment, she rolled onto her back, careful of not knocking into the last two contestants. “Looks like you win,” she pouted, lifting up on her elbows, creating an enticing pose.

“Not yet, he hasn’t,” Bones chimed in, triumphantly grinning.

“Oh. My. God! You did that on purpose!” Granger cried out, sitting up. “B-but that’s… I mean… Hufflepuffs don’t cheat!” She sounded indignant on behalf of the Badgers.

Draco considered himself an expert on finding the minute facial tics that gave a good lie away – the expansion of the pupils, a twitch at the side of the lip, a slight flaring of the nostrils, the sheen of perspiration above the mouth or brow, the tiniest change of skin color to indicate a flush. In Susan Bones, there was none of that. She didn’t even bother to try to hide what she’d done behind a mask of faux innocence. She simply smiled.

“May the best witch win.”

Holy shite, the girl was totally amoral! She would have made the perfect Slytherin. For some reason, instead of finding that the most twisted turn-on, it greatly disturbed Draco. Suddenly, he was very keen for this chick not to win for he knew whom she would claim as her prize – and he had absolutely no intention of letting his sexified lips touch a queen viper’s. Hell, they’d probably be tinted with Amortentia-laced gloss or something equally as disturbing.

“Technically, that wasn’t a foul,” Theo chimed in with a leering grin, which he directed Susan’s way. “She didn’t touch you. You were startled by her sneeze – faked or not.” He shrugged at Hermione. “Sorry, babe, but you’re out.”

She growled – actually let out a rumbling roar behind her teeth. Turning angry, dark eyes on Draco, she emphatically pointed at him. “You’d better win!”

Surprise mingled with curiosity. “Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” he wondered.

The object of his fanciful lust glared at him. “Because I expect you to kiss me before we graduate, Ferret. You owe me.”

Was that so?

There were more than a few cat-calls and some good natured ribbing from the crowd at that, and Draco thought things were starting to get _really_ interesting now.

“Owe you? For what?”

Oh, how he loved daring her.

She quickly made her feet, and in the way that only Granger could pull off, she put her hands on her hips and stared down at him with a kind of regal disapproval that made him want to automatically service her every whim. “Just concentrate on the game. I’ll tell you when you win.”

Vague, yet stubbornly insistent. How typical of the woman.

His pride required him to challenge her dominant attitude, however. It wouldn’t do for her to think she could push him around, especially in front of others. “Even if I did take home the cup, pet, why do you think I’d pick you as my reward?”

Eyes rounded with incredulity, but then narrowed with a cunning gleam. “Whatever I need, remember? Well, I’m taking you up on that offer. Not that going back on your word isn’t the very Slytherin thing to do, but I assumed that once a _Malfoy_ made an agreement…” She threw a nonchalant shrug. “Well, family honor and all that.” Pausing for dramatic effect, she looked askance at him. “Unless, of course, that sort of thing doesn’t matter to you, that is?” 

The silent, curious onlookers practically exhaled as one in amazed awe at such brilliant maneuvering. “OOOOhhhhhh!” they exclaimed as a group.

 _Yeah, ‘oooh’ alright. She’s hot when she’s being manipulative, isn’t she?_ the Devil leered, his tongue openly lolling from his mouth with blatant sexual hunger. He was sporting a huge erection as well. _Quick, win so we can fuck her bareback and raw!_

 _Really mature,_ the Angel shook his head, adjusting his robes to hide the evidence of his own arousal. _You’re supposed to care for this girl, not treat her like meat._

The Devil glanced around Draco’s head at his nemesis. _Have you_ seen _her meat, man? She’s prime fillet! A full-course banquet just waiting to be eaten! Grab me some pepper and salt – I’m so there!_

Draco couldn’t help but agree. This bird was good, using his familial reputation to corner him, and phrasing it just so that if he denied her now, his promise wouldn’t be worth squat in the future. Clever minx. Now, this was more the type of Slytherin conniving that he liked from a woman, rather than that catty-shite that Bones had just pulled. It made him adore his little Gryffindor all the more.

Directing his most charming smile upon her, he nodded. “Alright, Princess, if I win, you’ll be my prize. Just make sure you don’t go back on _your_ word. I’ll expect you to be willing and wet for the full hour that you’re under me.” 

The crowd erupted with both amusement and surprise at that.

Hermione crossed her arms and smirked. “Agreed.”

“And if I win, you’re _my_ prize, Malfoy,” Bones declared, an angry frown decorating her pretty face. She glared at Granger.

An unspoken message passed between the two women then, and Draco’s suspicions rose. There was something more going on here between the ladies in this game. They’d all been acting like loons since he’d arrived – practically throwing themselves at him (well, all except the She-Weasel, but she’d always had her eye firmly on Potter). The rest though… He trusted his instincts, as they had saved him on more than one occasion in Quidditch, or when trying to outmaneuver Filch when sneaking about the castle after curfew. Right now, they were screaming that something was going on with the ladies in this game – something involving him, although he couldn’t puzzle out exactly what it was.

“Whatever, pet,” he replied to Bones. “Your choice. I’ll abide if I lose. But,” he threw her a naughty grin, and intentionally spoke so low that she couldn’t hear the rest.

She leaned in closer. “What?”

He buzzed his words again, forcing her to lean in, luring her off-balance.

“I can’t hear you, Malfoy. Speak up,” she insisted.

Moving very fast, he jerked his head towards her as if he intended to crash into her, eyes wide with a maniacal gleam and teeth bared. Susan yelped and jerked back to avoid the faked collision, which offset her balance and caused her to fall on her bum.

“I said, ‘I doubt I will,’” he finished the thought with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“You cheated!” she screeched. “I call foul!”

Theo shook his head. “Nuh-uh, darling, just as you didn’t touch Granger, he didn’t touch you. You unbalanced yourself and reacted, rather than keep cool. You’re out. Which means…” He walked over to Draco and put his hand on his head. “We have our winner!”

The room erupted in applause and good cheer. Praises such as, “good job, mate!” and “how Slytherin was that move?” and “brilliant, Malfoy, just brilliant!” came from the onlookers.

The Devil mentally high-fived him. _That was mint, mate._

_Admittedly clever and quite effective,_ the Angel reluctantly conceded. _But definitely dishonest in play._

Snorting, the Devil folded his arms over his chest and grinned. _Hello? We’re_ _Slytherin… or had you forgotten that little fact? Besides, the little wench had it coming. She cheated, too._

The Angel took a deep breath, looked down at Miss Bones and sniffed with righteous disappointment. _Indeed. I suppose we can call it justified and leave it at that._

Susan Bones picked her bottom up off the floor and made her feet. She glared down at him, then over at Granger, stamped her foot in disappointment, and huffed away. “I didn’t want you anyway,” she called over her shoulder.

Nott put pressure on Draco’s head to tip it back and his friend winked down at him. “Well, don’t just sit there like a lump. Go claim your prize!”

On stiff legs (thank Merlin he hadn’t had to keep up the contortion act for much longer or he would have lost!), he got to his feet, stretched out his sore muscles, and turned to Granger. Their eyes met with an equal eagerness across the space as he crooked his finger at her and gave her his best, most triumphant smirk. As if pulled by an invisible string, she dropped her arms and walked across the mat towards him.

“That was truly inspired,” she complimented.

 _I’ll show you inspired, baby,_ the Devil licked its lips. _Come a little closer._

 “Slytherin rule number fourteen,” he replied, reaching for her waist to pull her against him. “When your opponent succeeds at artifice, feint back when they least expect it. If nothing else, it’ll make you feel better to get even.”

Her arms wrapped around his neck and she stretched on tiptoe to meet his lowering mouth. “You’re a deceitful little git, you know?”

His lips smiled against hers. “Anything for you. Now let’s get out of here before I take you to the floor.”

 _Remember: true inspiration comes from the feeling behind the action,_ the Angel prompted him. _It’s love - not lust - that makes everything in this world good!_  

**X~~~~~X**

Despite the Angel’s final admonition, Draco’s neglected hormones were raging for some action, and his feet were on-board with the Devil’s plan. Practically dragging Hermione behind him, his long-legged stride flying through the sub-basement corridors, they made it to his shared dorm room in record time. Blaise was nowhere to be seen, and Nott was still upstairs, involved in a second round of Twister with a group of new players. Seventh-years were given the privilege of having only three to a room, so Crabbe and Goyle no longer shared his space (Vaisey had to put up with their stinky socks and midnight farting sessions now). That meant that he and Granger were totally alone, and probably would be for the whole night, if Draco knew his two roommates as well as he believed.

With nervous anticipation, he led Hermione to his bed and sat them down next to each other. A million rioting thoughts flickered through his head. How should they go about this? Should he start it off as just a simple snog session and move things along from there, or should they first talk about what they both expected from tonight? Was she on a birth control potion or would he have to cast the contraceptive spell he’d memorized for just this occasion? Had she done this before with someone else, or would they both be doing this together for the first time? What if she decided she didn’t want anything more than the kissing - how was he to convince her for more?

His hand was sweating, but she didn’t let go of it as they stared at each other for a long moment in silence, waiting for one of them to make the first move.

It turned out that his brave Gryffindor Princess accepted the challenge.

With a little gasping cry of excitement, she leapt at him, her mouth coming down on his with a fierce passion. Her arms encircled his neck and she leaned into him with her whole weight. Surprised by the unexpected move, Draco was at first stiff, but quickly relaxed, deciding to go with it. Kissing back with an equal desire, he encircled her waist with one hand while the other thrust into her curls and fisted her hair. He licked over her lips, tasting rum, scenting coconut. Had she been drinking a bit before the game? That might explain her being not just a bit uncoordinated earlier, but also rather forward with her intentions for him. The flavor intoxicated him.

 _She tastes… wonderful,_ the Angel sighed with pleasure.

 _She jumped us! She jumped us!_ the Devil crowed with triumph, stroking his arousal. _Did you see that? Oh, yeah, she wants us bad! Give it to her, mate - show this witch what we’re about!_

Draco delved back in for more, parting the seam of her mouth with his tongue and thrusting deep, lapping at every corner. _I want you,_ he conveyed with every surge forward and every lick. _Don’t you know – I’ve always wanted you?_

And it was true. Every awful thing he’d ever said and done to her over the years had been to get her attention. He’d been envious of her brilliance from the start, wanting to capture it for his very own. Since fourth year, he’d also longed for her affection. Jealous of the way she gave her heart to everyone but him, he’d continued to say and do things to hurt her - until this year. That first moment he’d seen her step onto the train at King’s Cross this past September, he’d felt his heart constrict at her beauty, and silently conceded the battle. He’d decided to stop the immature baiting and to begin to try to properly win her. So, he had – just like that. And she’d noticed… and smiled at him more… and they’d talked, instead of shouting at each other. Yeah, she’d politely turned down his requests for a date, but despite his disappointment, they’d become and stayed friendly.

Tonight, he wanted to be a whole lot more so with her. And, according to the magical clock next to his bed, he had exactly forty-one minutes to convince her likewise.

 _Hop to,_ the Devil urged, fisting his hard cock and sliding faster over it. _I want some of that!_

 _I… I find I must agree,_ the Angel grudgingly declared. _I would really like to experience love-making with this woman – as soon as you can manage it._ He fiddled with his long, white robe, pulling it away from his body to try to hide his own erection. _Please, just don’t let her get away tonight!_

The Devil growled at his counterpart, a solid determination upon his strikingly wicked features. _Hell, no! She won’t be leaving our bed – not if we have anything to say about it! Time to up the ante…_

**X~~~~~X**

They made it a whole eighteen heart-pounding, lung-panting, body-straining minutes before she whispered in his ear that she wanted him to make love to her immediately and not to let her go until dawn. He’d required clarification of exactly how far she wanted to take things, the Angel on his shoulder nagging him to make sure he did this right for both of them.

 _So we can do it again and again later,_ the Devil chimed in, rubbing its hands together in anticipation. _Not a bad idea there, Mr. Chastity-belt!_

Granger looked him in the eye, her body wrapped around his as she lay on her back and he over her, and told him in explicit detail what she wanted him to do to her. Draco’s head nearly exploded. “Are you on a potion or something?” he asked, his dick so hard it ached for release.

She nodded. “Twenty-four hour contraceptive potion,” she assured him. “Covers disease, too.”

He paused, bothered by what she’d just said. “You took a potion - _in advance_. So, you meant to get laid tonight?”

Hermione went stone-still.

“By me?” he raised the big question, needing to know. “Or anyone?”

She shut her eyes and pursed her lips. “Oh, dear. I guess there’s no use in hiding it any longer. You’re bound to find out.” Her lids peeked open and she sighed. “There was this bet, you see…”

“Between you, Patil, Parkinson, She-Weasel and Bones,” he guessed.

The slight tilt to her head told him that some of his presumption was correct. “Not Ginny. She had her sights set on Harry, but yes, the rest of us had made a wager - for you.”

His eyes rounded and his curiosity piqued. “What sort of wager are we talking here exactly, pet?”

Her throat convulsed on a thick swallow. “Well, you see… that is to say… we agreed to set-up the Twister game in advance. I bought it over the Easter holiday in Muggle London, smuggled it into the castle, and dragged it down to your common room tonight. Pansy brought several bottles of expensive massage oil. Padma and Susan split the cost for the night’s hooch for the whole room so everyone would want to loosen up and party. Ginny was simply tasked with upping the stakes as soon as you agreed to join in, and I secretly convinced Theo to encourage you to play with us once I explained it all to him. The idea was for one witch to win a night with you.”

 _You’re kidding,_ the Devil drew up, stunned. _All of those ladies wanted our One-Eyed Fred, the Gristle Missile, and we didn’t act sooner than tonight?_ He slapped Draco upside the head. _You candy-boy prude! Think of all the sex we could have had!_

 _Think of all the complications sleeping with three different women would have caused,_ the Angel rebuked. _Would we have this chance with Miss Granger now if we’d engaged in intercourse with any of those other women? Most likely, not. Teenage girls like to gossip, after all, and she’d have found out and thought us unworthy. It’s better this way._

The Devil grumped at that, but didn’t argue back for once.

Draco ignored the in-fighting between his two psychic constructs and focused on the witch before him. “Why me?”

Hermione primly cleared her throat and kneaded her fingernails into the coverlet of his bed. “Um, because you’re attractive and sexy and smart and… and you’re a virgin.”

His eyes nearly fell out of his head. “What?” he croaked. “How the bloody hell did you-?”

“Know your secret?” she finished for him, looking slightly smug. “The library is chock-full of information about ancient spells. I was perusing the section on Medieval Marital Spells, and found one primarily used on women to determine her worth for marriage. Despicable practice, but the spell was quite handy for the purposes of determining a person’s sexual status.” She pointedly looked at him. “Yours, in this case. You couldn’t see it, but the aura about you glowed blue when I cast the spell on you, meaning you have never engaged in intercourse with another.”

He thought about that hard for several seconds, and then held up his hand. “ _Accio_ wand,” he commanded, putting the force of his magic behind the wandless spell. His wand flew into his hand from where he’d earlier left it, and he touched the tip to her chest. “What’s the spell, Granger? Tell me the words.”

Dark, brown eyes assessed him, as calm as could be. Hermione reached out and put her hand over his on the wand. “ _Parthenos Revelio_ ,” she called out the spell. Instantly, a glimmering blue enveloped her whole body.

“You’re a virgin, too,” he murmured with some shock.

“We all are – Padma, Pansy, Susan and I,” she admitted, and looked away with shame. “I came up with the idea of the bet, though, at the beginning of this year. We all agreed – and signed a document to the effect - not to date or fool around with you after that, but to wait until after N.E.W.T.s for you to decide on which one of us – if any - you wanted. It was Theo who put it to us after Valentine’s the idea of a game, raising the stakes. I think he did it because he knew Parkinson was looking for a way around the deal because she didn’t feel challenged enough.”

Yeah, that sounded like Pans – always looking for the loophole and the angle.

“I brainstormed over Nott’s suggestion, and proposed we play the Muggle game ‘Twister’,” she continued. “I figured that it was a good bet that they wouldn’t know what it was, seeing as how Parkinson and Patil are both purebloods and Susan is half, and maybe it might intrigue them. After explaining the rules and conjuring an image of the board for them, the girls were interested. Somehow, Theo suggested Naked Oil Twister in jest, and Padma compromised with swim suits. At that point, they all jumped on board, thinking it would be not only fun, but fair to leave it all in the hands of chance. It put us on equal footing, so to speak. I went along with it to hold to the agreement.”

“So, that’s why you turned me down every time I asked you to Hogsmeade – because of the bet,” he stated, feeling some measure of relief. At least it wasn’t because she didn’t like him.

Hermione nodded. “I’m sorry about that, but I made a promise, and I had to honor it. And it wasn’t like there was much choice. The bet was the only way I could think of to keep those other girls from jumping you in the corridors. Did you know that they’d each individually planned to get pregnant with your baby, so they could assure a marriage to you?”

“Y-you’re kidding,” he stammered, utterly astonished by the news. Patil, Bones and Parkinson had all wanted his baby and would have used it to trap him into marriage? What kind of twisted shite was that? “That’s why you said I owed you,” he comprehended in a flash of insight. “Your bet kept them from carrying out their plans.”

She huffed, a pink blush prettily staining her cheeks and glanced back at him from the corner of her eye. “Thank goodness I live with the Gossip Queen, Lavender, who kept me up on what everyone was doing, otherwise… Well, I think Pansy might have cornered you back in September first, and then this, between us, would have been moot.” She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Honestly, I may like those three, but they are without a doubt the most aggressive girls I’ve ever met – more so than Ginny could ever hope to be! And they’re exceedingly manipulative in their own ways. I suspect that Pansy hoodwinked both Bones and Patil with ruinous advice on how to catch your attention to knock them out of the running, which is why they were so forward tonight. She slyly tried to pass me some suggestions of the same sort just yesterday, but I brushed her off.” She turned to look him full-on again, apparently noting his astonishment. “Didn’t you suspect any of this before tonight?”

Draco’s head was officially melting. He stood up, stepping away from the bed and stared, unsure if he should be grateful or resentful for her interference in his love life.

“You’re not joking?” he asked, needing her to confirm everything she’d just said. “All four of you wanted to fuck me?”

Pushing up on her elbows, she didn’t flinch from the question. “No.”

He started. “But you just said-”

She stood up and calmly walked to him. “I said _they_ wanted to fuck you.” She pulled the tie string on his trunks, loosening them. “ _I_ want to make love to you.”

He blinked, watching her hands divest him of his scant clothing with nimble movements. Fully naked and aroused before her, all he could think to say in that moment made him sound like a complete simpleton.

“Seriously?”

 _What the hell?_ his Devil gave him another head slap. _She tells you something that sexy and that’s the best you can come up with? All of my lessons on how to play it cool – right down the bog!_

_Not that I enjoy agreeing with the git on your other shoulder, but… yes, get it together, man,_ the Angel charged. _Now._

 _Did you just say ‘git’,_ the Devil grinned. _I’ll corrupt you yet!_

The two continued a small debate in the background, which Draco tuned out, his entire focus on the gorgeous witch of his dreams before him as she reached for the halter on her bathing top and untied it. As it fluttered off her form and to the floor, and her luscious tits came into view, his cock actually twitched, drawing her attention.

“Seriously,” she reassured him, and hooked her thumbs into the edges of her bottoms, pulling them down her legs without fear.

Draco could only stare, utterly mesmerized by her beauty. “You’re fearless,” he whispered the compliment, not realizing he’d actually said it aloud until she gave a light-hearted laugh.

“I’m Gryffindor,” she reminded him, and closed the distance between them, pressing their naked bits together as she wound her arms about his neck. “Now, why don’t you show me how much a Slytherin you can truly be,” she purred, stretching her mouth up for a kiss.

As if a switch turned on, he regained his lost confidence and gathered her close. Giving her his best smirk, he lowered his head to meet her lips. “Game on, pet.”

**X~~~~~X**

Draco decided in the moment his cock slid between Hermione’s lower lips and into her snug pussy that this was exactly where he wanted to stay for the rest of his life. Parting her tight, slick flesh was both heaven and hell; it was the greatest feeling he’d ever known in the whole of his existence, while simultaneously utter and complete torture holding back the desire to immediately come.

He’d already shot his load – _twice_ \- over the last two hours that they’d been thoroughly exploring one another – once by her hand, and the second time across her tongue, and he’d brought her to climax three times already in much the same manner. Still, it wasn’t enough for whatever this magic was that had taken hold of him and shook him in its lustful teeth, and he knew that at any second, he was going to erupt.

“Oh, God,” he gasped as the fiery release burned through his aching shaft, tightening up his sac and making it pulse. “I don’t think I can hold back.”

Tiny beads of perspiration dotted Hermione’s upper lip. “Push hard,” she demanded, her pink cheeks flaming crimson with her renewed desire. “If you’re going to spill into me, then I want it deep inside.”

Her words… he’d never known anyone to say such provocative things. He was a guy, so he’d pretty much heard every crude phrase you could think of by now, but the images Granger could conjure with the slightest turn of phrase had his gut clenching and sweat dripping from his brow. His arms shook and his heart trembled with fear. She would unmake him in every way, wouldn’t she?

“Fuck,” he grit as he inched in, coming up against the barrier of her virginity. “It feels so _bloody_ good. Am I hurting you?”

Her tiny hands, with the fading ink stains decorating the pads, reached for his hips. Her nails dug in as she wrapped quaking thighs around his waist. “Make me yours, Draco,” she demanded. “Thrust!”

He pulled back, tensed, and met her eye. “I so love you,” he growled and did as she commanded, surging forward with all his strength, using the friction of the bed to hold them in place as he tore through the fleshy hindrance keeping them apart, and his hilt met her pelvis.

Hermione winced and cried out, and her fingernails left stinging crescents in his skin as she clenched around him in a hot, silken grip that massaged his shaft. His well-disciplined restraint snapped cleanly in two then, and he moved on pure male instinct, succumbing to the need to fuck until he expired from the pleasure. His hips drew back, pulling his solid length out of her superb hold, only to jerk forward a moment later in a desperate need to reunite. A deep groan escaped his lips, animal-like in intensity and tone.

He made it four complete strokes before he was unable to control his orgasm, and released just as she’d requested with a shout to the ceiling, feeling his whole world shatter at the same time as warm, velvet satisfaction enveloped his senses. This time was so much better than any climax he’d ever experienced before – all light and heat and so much bliss and contentment that it couldn’t be contained in a word or sound or thought. All he knew was that this felt right. It felt _perfect_.

His seed continued ejaculating from his taut, shaking body in pulsing bursts right up against the soft entrance to her womb as he murmured his claim over and over. “Mine. You’re mine. All mine.”

His witch shifted her hold to pull him down atop her, so his face rested in the bend of her neck. “Yes,” she whispered, kissing over his neck with a relieved sigh. “Finally.” Winding her limbs about him, she cradled him, providing security and comfort as the last spasm drained him of his energy, leaving him as weak as a newborn kitten.

As the haze of exhaustion began to overtake his faculties and his penis softened within her, the buzz of masculine pride rode in the background upon his psyche. He’d just taken Hermione Granger’s cherry. He’d been her first. And she’d been his. She’d never be able to dismiss him from her mind now, no matter what the future held, just as he would never be able to forget her. They’d shared the profound.

 _Forget that? Are you kidding me?_ the Devil asked, as sated as his master, lying limp as if in a fevered swoon off the edge of Draco’s shoulder. _That was… it was… it should go in the record books for the best first shag in history, is what!_

The Angel, equally as depleted and lying in a pose mirroring his most hated foil, gave a pointedly disapproving snort. _You didn’t make her come. And you’re falling asleep on her right after causing her pain by breaking her hymen. You should be more attentive to the woman you claim to love after having sex with her!_

Draco fought off his fatigue to roll them onto their sides and to take Hermione into his arms. They spooned, and he pressed his nose into her fragrant curls with a smile. “Thank you,” he hummed, nuzzling her throat. “It was bloody amazing - unforgettable. Are you alright, though? Did I hurt you?”

Hermione stifled a yawn behind her hand. “A little, but the orgasm you gave me there at the end made up for it.”

He froze, his heart skipping a beat. “You came?”

She tiredly nodded. “Right when you did. I could feel you filling me, and it pulled me over the edge.”

 _Hear that?_ the Devil grinned, weakly lifting his arm and giving the ‘up your buttocks’ signal to the Angel. _We did right by her, after all._ He whipped out a ciggie from his inner robe pocket and lit up using a wisp of blue flame conjured at the tip of his finger. Sucking back on the cancer stick, the Devil sighed with satisfaction.

Too tired to fight, the Angel gave in this one time. _Seems we did._

Draco turned her head to place a kiss upon her lips. He met her eye. “I’m glad it was you.”

A shy smile lit up her pretty features, and the freckles across the bridge of her nose were highlighted once more by a very feminine pink blush. “I’m glad it was you, too.”

Pulling the covers over them, they lay entangled, enjoying their first night together as lovers.

**X~~~~~X**

  
_Saturday, the 6th of June, 1998_

The bed was colder without her in it, Draco decided, disappointed to have woken up a moment before to find Hermione long gone. Had she run from him – from what they done? His belly churned with sick at the thought that she might regret the night before.

 _No way, mate,_ the Devil encouraged him. _You’re the man. The stud. She loved every minute of it._

 _Yes, she seemed to have enjoyed it very much,_ the Angel agreed. _Perhaps she was just very anxious about today’s ceremony and needed to attend to some important details? As Head Girl, she would need to coordinate with the staff._

Surely, that’s all it had to be. She wouldn’t have pulled a runner. As she’d pointed out to him the night before, she was Gryffindor, and that meant she had courage up the staff.

Stiffly sitting up, aching in places he hadn’t even realized it was possible to hurt, he looked about. His roommates’ beds were empty, just as he had predicted would be the case on the night before graduation. Theo and Blaise had obviously found some witch’s bed to crawl into, either together or separate. They’d enjoyed the proclivity of sharing a girl on occasion, so either scenario might be the case.

Crawling out of the bed, he gained his full height and stretched, then bent to retrieve his discarded clothing and throw it into his trunk. Grabbing his shower kit and a towel, he headed down the hall to the communal baths on this floor. It was such a girly thought, but he was honestly disappointed when he’d jumped under the hot spray to wash away the evidence of the glorious night he’d shared with Granger. At least he still had the love bites upon his neck, the teeth marks over his nipples, and her fingernail gouges and scratches decorating his torso and hips. Those, he refused to magic away with Healing Charms; he’d let them fade naturally. They were evidence of her claim upon him, and he wanted to keep them in memory for as long as possible.

When he returned to his room, he found his two roommates had arrived and were getting ready for their own showers.

“Hey,” he greeted as he packed his things away and took out his school uniform – the last time he’d wear it – for the traditional graduation breakfast in the Great Hall. After that, he’d return here to don his graduation robes and he’d pack his other clothes away in his trunk for the last time.

“So,” Theo slithered over to Draco’s bed and pointed at something in the middle of the exposed, white sheets. “Granger was a virgin, huh? Score, you!”

Draco turned very slowly, shocked by such a question. He glanced to where Theo’s finger was pointing, and noticed the dried streaks of blood staining the cotton. Other, less conspicuous areas of dampness in a shade or two darker than the fabric itself appeared around the blood – the infamous ‘wet spot.’

It annoyed him that his friend would poke fun of the best night of his life – and especially a woman as fantastic as Granger. Besides, some things were too personal and precious to share. He stomped over and covered the sheets up with the blanket, hiding away that which should only be for his eyes. “Don’t say another word about her,” he warned, casting a black look to match the threat in his voice.

Theo was clearly shocked, his mouth hanging open like he was competing to catch flies. Draco stared him down, daring him to defy his edict. The silence lasted several seconds before Nott actually broke the stalemate. “Holy shite, mate, you’ve got it bad, haven’t ya?” He walked over and slapped Draco on the shoulder in congratulations. “Well, hell, welcome to the beginning – and apparent end - of your bachelor days.”

“Granger, huh?” Zabini seemed to mull that over. He finally chuckled and turned to resume his previous endeavors. “She’s a good catch. Your parents might not understand, though. Just saying.”

Theo turned to his friend, defending Draco’s choice by deflecting the conversation. “And Parkinson’s mum and dad will greet you with open arms and a fruit basket once they find out about your mother, will they?”

Blaise shrugged. “Doesn’t matter what they think,” he stated. “I’m marrying her whether they like it or not.”

Now it was Draco’s turn to get in on the insect catching business. “You and Pans? What? When?”

“You’re so blinded by your own red and gold skirt-chasing that you didn’t see him practically humping Pansy last night during the game?” Theo laughed. “He’s only been panting after our Queen for years – same as you with Granger.” He sauntered over to their friend and ran a finger down Zabini’s back, following the defined nail marks. “And it looks like he finally caught her.”

The dark wizard whirled so fast that Theo didn’t have time to pull his hand away before it was caught in Zabini’s tight grip. “Jealous?”

Nott snorted and finger-by-finger, removed their friend’s hand from his person, grinning like Saint George after he conquered the dragon. “Hardly.” He stretched his arms above his head, cracking his knuckles with supreme confidence. “A certain temperamental little Hufflepuff, hell-bent on proving her worth, gave me the workout of the century after being tossed over by Romeo here last night.” He jerked his chin in Draco’s direction and gave him a wicked grin as he turned to get his shower kit together. “I’m so glad Bones lost that bloody game. I owe you mate, seriously.”

Draco took his time redressing, stalling until his friends left the room for the baths. Once they were gone, he pulled the sheets from his bed, rolled them up, and hid them at the bottom of his trunk. Those, he was keeping.

**X~~~~~X**

Granger appeared for breakfast next to the She-Weasel, both girls arriving late and looking freshly showered. She spared him only a momentary glance before looking down at her plate and digging in, though. A scarlet bloom lit up her face, and she nearly choked on her pumpkin juice when Potter, sitting on her right, whispered something in her ear.

Draco’s levels of jealousy and fear shot through the roof. What the hell was Scarhead doing sitting so close to _his_ witch, much less intimately murmuring to her? And why the hell wouldn’t she look at him? What had he done wrong? Was she _embarrassed_ by what they’d done last night? Was she regretting that she’d given her virginity to him?

She’d better not be!

He certainly wasn’t.

He stewed, watched and waited until she got up to leave with her friends, and stopped her at the exit. “Granger, can I talk to you?”

“I-I have to finish my speech and practice my incantation,” she stammered the lame excuse, her eyes glued to his shoes. As Valedictorian, Hermione would deliver not only a short oration that spoke of their year’s hopes and dreams for the future, but she was responsible for creating a unique Charm that would symbolize the speech’s theme and represent what their class stood for. It was a tremendous honor and responsibility, as the spell would become part of Hogwarts’ legacy. It was a time-honored tradition, hailing back to the very first class to be instructed within the castle walls, and not once in the almost one-thousand years that this institution had stood had a ‘theme spell’ ever flopped. He could understand the pressure of getting it right, but still… “Can we talk later, after the ceremony?” she requested, looking about everywhere now, except at him.

Draco felt sucker punched in the gut by her obvious avoidance. She _was_ embarrassed by what they’d done. The truth hurt, knocking his confidence down a rung or two. “Sure, whatever,” he muttered as she stepped past him and headed in the direction of the Grand Staircase and her dormitory tower, the She-Weasel staunchly at her side.

When they were gone, he stood there feeling stupid and used, and turned to storm back down to his own room to practice his own speech. As Salutatorian, he would give a shorter address to his class, adding his own thoughts and wishes to Hermione’s. They’d previously talked on the subject, agreeing on which angles to tackle so their speeches didn’t overlap. He’d agreed to briefly discuss the ideals of hard work, discipline and ambition – subjects he was most comfortable tackling. The touchy-feely stuff, he’d left for her.

“Malfoy, wait up.”

He’d recognize that voice until the end of his days, just as he would the piercing emerald eyes and messy hair of its owner. “Potter,” he bit between clenched teeth, going for civil, but finding it hard to maintain the thread given how tenuously he held to his temper at the moment. “I’m busy.”

“Won’t take long,” Harry stated, joining him on his walk down the stairs and into the dungeon. When they reached a corridor where there were no other students, Gryffindor’s Golden Boy finally spoke his piece. “Hermione’s a little confused right now. That’s why she’s pulling away.”

Draco stopped on a knut, and Potter reacted with the same swift abilities he’d shown in Quidditch for maneuvering. They faced each other down.

Fists clenched at his side, Draco restrained his natural impulse to kick in the other guy’s teeth. “Not that it’s any of your business, but what would she be confused about, and why doesn’t she have the guts to tell me this to my face? She’s a Gryffindor, not a bloody Hufflepuff.”

Potter shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and adjusted his glasses – a dead give-away that he was nervous to be discussing his best female friend behind her back to the guy she’d shagged just the night before. “She’s on unfamiliar ground right now, and it’s knocked her off her comfortable perch,” the guy explained. “’Mione’s the disciplined type, right? Never late, always meticulous in detail, and above all, she is in control. Right now, she doesn’t feel that. She, um,” he cleared his throat, and ran a hand through his disheveled hair, “she told me enough of last night for me to get the gist. I caught her crawling through the portrait hole this morning, and she was crying, and we got to talking. She… she really loves you, you know?”

A myriad of responses flittered through Draco’s brain as his arch-rival talked. They all flew out the window of his mind at that last revelation.

“She does?”

That sharp green gaze impaled him. “Yeah, she has for a while now, but last night cemented it for her. She’s scared that you don’t feel the same way, or that your parents will influence your feelings and she’ll end up on the receiving end of another ‘Mudblood’ comment.”

Before he could arrest the motion, Draco was shaking his head. “I wouldn’t let them hurt her like that. She’s… special to me.”

Yeah, he was so not going to admit anything else to Scarhead. He’d reached the limit on his sharing-caring with the guy.

Harry held his gaze for a moment longer. “You know, if you break her heart, I’ll break your face,” he resolutely stated.

Draco’s brows rose at that. It had been two years since he and Gryffindor’s Captain had traded any kinds of serious threats or truly nasty insults, both of them realizing that their rivalry was best settled on the Quidditch pitch and in the classroom, rather than in the hallways with menace. And despite their quarrelsome history, they’d never come to full-on blows. Yet, he knew in that moment that Harry Potter meant business. There was no question that the guy would let the fists fly to defend Granger’s honor.

It wasn’t fear of a scrapping which motivated him to answer, however. It was his understanding that Hermione cared very much about this arrogant git standing before him, and that if Draco and Harry were to come to blows, it would hurt her. That, more than the threat of physical violence to her person, he couldn’t abide.

“Not planning on letting either happen,” he avowed, the implication clear. Hermione was his, if she’d let it happen and stop over-analyzing it, and he would protect her.

“Good,” Potter declared, adjusted his glasses again, and threw Draco a crooked smile. “’Cause ‘Mione would have my hide if I bruised your pretty-boy face. And her hexes are legendary.” He moved past him, heading back down the way they’d come, sounding not only a bit relieved, but almost playful as he waved over his shoulder. “Just remember that, Ferret.”

**X~~~~~X**

He ran into the She-Weasel out on the lawn, as he was overseeing the chair set-up for the ceremony. As a fellow Prefect, she was also tasked to help out.

“You’d better not break ‘Mione’s heart, you snake,” she hissed as she stepped up to him, bristling with righteous indignation.

He gave her a flat stare. “You and your boy-toy need to stop sharing a brain,” he sighed, annoyed. “I’ve already heard this speech once today.”

“Then hear it again,” she demanded, punching him in the arm.

Having been on the receiving end of Little Red’s body-checks on the Quidditch pitch several times over the last two years, he was used to her abusive ways and didn’t flinch.

“Does Potter know you like it rough? Oh, wait, I’m sure he’s used to being everyone’s bitch by now, so no change there,” he mocked, hoping to infuriate her enough to storm away in a huff. No dice this time, though, as she folded her arms over her chest and prepared for battle.

“I’m serious, Malfoy,” she growled, her frown enough to scare away the resident poltergeist. “She’s totally into you and scared to death that you’re going to be a total prick now.”

Calmly putting his clipboard with the roster of duties down on a chair, he turned full-on to her and mimicked her stance. “Why is it I have to hear this crap second-hand through a bunch of menial varlets, instead of directly from her mouth? If Granger would stop avoiding me, we could settle her fears once and for all.”

Weasley’s eyes narrowed. “And what _are_ your intentions?”

He smirked at her audacity. “How’s this: none of your bloody business.”

She threw a fist at him again. He saw it coming and stepped back out of reach quicker than she could pull her punch. It missed by miles. “Quit dodging,” she accused. “Do you care about her enough to try for something, or are you going to pull a yellow-belly on her? ‘Cause as her best girl friend, it’s my job to pick up the pieces if you crush her, and I need to be prepared. Do I see a few weeks of ice cream binging in my future, or will she happily blow me off to be with her new boyfriend? _Well?_ ”

He chuckled at her impatience. “I suppose you’re planning on running right out and telling her what I say?”

She didn’t even try for a feint or bald lie, as any good Slytherin woman might have. “Absolutely.”

Melodramatically sighing, he rolled his eyes heavenward. “Fine. Tell her I want her…” he intentionally hung on that last word as Weasley’s eyes rounded in excitement, “…to come talk to me herself.”

“GAH!” she raged, throwing her arms up in the air. “You are the most infuriating man alive! Why she likes you I’ll never understand - you’re such a git!”

Turning on her heel, she started to walk away, giving up, but he grabbed her arm and halted her, realizing he’d pushed the game too far. “Calm down, She-Weasel. I was just having a bit of fun with you,” he scoffed. “Here it is, right? I’m not going to repeat this to you or any other Gryffindor goons, so memorize it well: I like Hermione – _a lot_. Actually, it is way more than ‘like,’ but you don’t need to know the depths of my feelings to get the context of this conversation. Just know I’ve felt that way for a long time. After graduation, I want to take Granger on many dates. And I definitely want to do more of what we did last night. I won’t let my parents interfere or tolerate them abusing her in any way. My friends already know about us and are cool with it. Everyone else can go fuck themselves. That about cover it for you?”

The witch was positively beaming by the time he’d finished his confession. This time, when she punched him in the arm, it was soft, like you’d give to someone in congratulations. “Not bad, Malfoy,” she assured him with a nod. “Not bad at all. I’ll just go tell her, shall I?”

She skipped off.

“You do that,” he called after her retreating form, hoping to the Four Founders that little Miss Weasley’s recall of conversations was precise, because that was the best declaration he’d made about a girl in… well, ever.

**X~~~~~X**

They sat next to each other on the podium overlooking the crowd, their chairs crowded close at his intentional placement, as he’d set up the stage. Dumbledore was giving a speech that seemed to drone on in his mind, but then, his whole focus was on the beautiful – and very nervous – witch, whose outer thigh was just now brushing against his.

Their gazes met, and she blushed, and all he wanted in that minute was to kiss the freckles across her nose.

“…our Salutatorian, Draco Malfoy,” the Headmaster cued him, and with a sigh, he got to his feet and moved to center stage.

He was told later that his speech was impassioned, filled with good advice. He’d memorized it, so it flowed naturally out of his mouth without interruption or awkward pause, but for the life of him, he couldn’t really recall a single word of it once he finished and the clapping hailed him off, and it was Hermione’s turn to deliver her address.

As they passed each other, he reached out and brushed his fingertips against hers in a silent offer for good luck and to soothe her. She caressed back before they pulled away and she took the starring role.

“I had a speech all written and prepared months ago for today,” she began, a Sonorus Charm previously cast upon them as they’d taken the stage, to assure they were clearly heard by those in the far back. There were some chuckles over that from those in the crowd who knew her penchant for over-preparation. “But, I’ve decided to chuck it,” she announced with a bright smile. “I’m going to wing it for the first time in my life, because there’s something more important to discuss than meeting milestones and reaching for personal excellence.”

That brought about some murmuring, as no one could believe Hermione Granger to ever say such a daring thing. Draco was intrigued, and sat back in his chair, crossing his legs to listen.

She glanced down at the stage, and then back up, gathering her courage. “I learned something last night that changed my whole understanding of this school and its purpose in our lives. This,” she waved at the castle in the background, “isn’t just a place of books and scholastic pursuit, or a stepping-stone towards a future career. It hasn’t been merely a location to linger while we grew into adults and discovered our own personality quirks. And it wasn’t just a place to play Quidditch or Wizard’s Chess or Gobstones, or to learn how to duel and how to gossip.” She paused, her eyes searching and finding people in the crowd to latch onto. “It was a place for _true magic_ to occur - not with wand or potion, but with hearts and minds.”

She walked to stage right and pointed out at the group of Ravenclaws that had been assigned to the front few rows. “Padma, I would never have stayed late to dance that night of the Yule Ball in fourth year if you hadn’t found me and dragged me back into the Great Hall for another go around. Remember that?”

Patil seemed fascinated in where Granger was going with this, and nodded.

Hermione gave her a gentle smile. “I was sad then, and you cheered me – made me realize that I should never let anyone ruin my fun. I’ll never forget that kindness.”

The girl who had been a rival for Draco’s affections just the night before seemed to melt under Granger’s kindness and returned the smile given her.

Pointing behind to the Slytherins, she singled out Parkinson. “Pansy, we started off at this school on really rough terms, but this year, I’d like to think that we came to an understanding – even, I dare, the tentative beginnings of a friendship. Remember a few weekends ago when we went into Hogsmeade to pick up some… items.” She brazenly winked and Pansy raised an eyebrow in understanding; they were talking about Pans’ contribution to the game night. “Even though we didn’t go for this purpose, you were willing to let me drag you into Scrivenshaft’s and patiently waited while I did a little personal shopping. We went to The Three Broomsticks after and shared a Butterbeer.” She gave his Housemate a brilliant grin. “It’s one of my favorite memories of this place, you know. I felt like we really… connected that day. I hope you felt the same.”

Parkinson said nothing, but her shy blush and the way she turned her head towards Blaise, who was seated at her side and holding her hand, was enough for any Slytherin to pick up the clue that she silently agreed.

Granger walked stage left, and pointed to Susan Bones amidst the Hufflepuffs. “Susan, remember in third year how you loaned me a little dandelion root in Professor Snape’s class, because I’d accidentally grabbed too little from storage? That started off something, didn’t it? We’ve shared ink wells, quills, parchment, books, and potions ingredients in the years since. I love how generous you are, and giving that back to you made me feel good inside.”

The two ladies shared a heartfelt moment that brought tears to Susan’s eyes. She wiped them away, smiling, and it was as if the events of last night were instantly forgotten.

Turning her attention next to Harry, Ron and Ginny, her grin stretched from ear-to-ear. “We’ve gotten into our share of trouble over the years, haven’t we? I wouldn’t trade a moment. Your loyalty, your love… it’s in here for always.” She covered the area over her heart with both hands. “I cherish it. Cherish _you_.”

Returning to the center of the stage, she talked as she gracefully moved. “There are stories like that for everyone here. So, you see, that’s what this place is all about. _That’s_ what we came here to discover. Not how to brew the flawless draught, or how to perfectly recall an event that happened a thousand years ago, or how to hone our incantations – but to learn how to open our hearts, so we could become a formidable community of enlightened thinkers who respect our differing opinions and work together to build up our world.” She looked over her shoulder at Dumbledore. “That’s what House unity truly means. That was the message we were always meant to understand.” 

Their Headmaster’s eyes twinkled with mirth as he bowed to her correct comprehension.

“It’s funny,” she continued, drawing her speech to a close. “It took a silly game of Twister, played last night, for me to finally learn that lesson, and…” she looked over her shoulder, directly at him. Draco sat up in his chair, uncrossing his legs, every fiber of his being attuned to her. “…for me to find the courage to live it.”

She gave him a melting smile and held out her hand for him. Draco made his feet, and in a public declaration, took her palm in his and stepped into her so that there was no doubt as to his intentions where she was concerned.

“So, this is my gift to all of you,” she withdrew her wand from her inner robe pocket and looked out on their peers with hope shining radiant across her very attractive girl-next-door features. “My spell to represent the class of 1998 – our ‘theme’: the bonds of friendship _are_ magic.” She waved her wand across the breadth of the audience. “ _Philia Revelio._ ”

Different colored lights highlighted each individual of the different Houses – green for Slytherin, red for Gryffindor, yellow for Hufflepuff, and blue for Ravenclaw. With a smirk, Draco realized what he was looking at: the rows of a Twister mat. And yet, even as he looked, he noted colored light beams slowly extending outward from every student, crossing the rows between seats in every direction to connect to members of other Houses. Like a ball of yarn held on one end and tossed about between people, it took less than a minute before the crisscrossing shapes created a magical net that tethered every person to at least one other classmate. Not a single student had less than three beams.

“We’re so interconnected,” he breathed in awe, looking down and seeing a dozen beams shooting from his own torso – one pointing right at Granger, and the others to Blaise, Theo, Pansy, Greg, Vince… and to his great surprise, even one to Potter.

As the crowd of students looked about in awe, trying to discover where their own beams ended, Hermione led him back to their seats. Even then, the light spectacle began to dim, as the spell had only been meant to illustrate a point, and not remain a permanent thing. As the last of the light faded away, Dumbledore took back the center of the podium to comment on the speeches of the top students before the final roll-call began. Draco tuned him out, his whole world focused on the shimmering brown eyes before him.

Cancelling the Sonorus spell upon them both, Granger tucked her wand away, and took his hand again. “I’m sorry for this morning,” she whispered. “I-”

He cut her off, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Fret too much, I know,” he cheeked. “I suppose I don’t blame you,” he admitted, dropping the act and getting serious. “Last night was a lot to take in, for both of us. But I don’t regret it, even now in the light of day. Do you?”

She shook her head. “No. It was wonderful. Everything I’d ever wanted. Like I said, I was glad it was with you.”

“Then,” he tentatively pursued, “can we see each other again? I’d really like us to properly date.”

Nodding, she beamed with happiness. “I’d like that.” Leaning forward, she tilted her head in an unspoken request for a kiss. Just as their lips touched, she made a cute, “oh!” noise and her lids opened. “By the way: I love you, too.”

As their mouths met, sparks shot off in Draco’s brain and behind his eyelids, and the world blissfully slid away. So enraptured with each other, they’d missed their names called out amongst the rest of the alphabet soup, and it was only when the roar of celebration erupted from the crowd that he realized that Dumbledore had officially called them graduated.

“First day of the rest of our lives,” she grinned, pressing her forehead to his. “How shall we celebrate?”

His mind fixated on a repeat of the night before, he dared the request. “Still got that Twister mat?”

Hermione’s matching smile was positively sinful. “Not sure. I think it’s still in your common area. Why don’t we make it a date to go look for it later?”

“Count me in,” he cheerfully volunteered. “Say, five minutes after the graduation luncheon ends?”

“Deal,” she agreed and they sealed the bargain with another kiss.

 _I love fun and games,_ the Devil grinned, swinging his long, skinny tail around in lazy circles.

 _You know something funny?_ The Angel asked. _Me, too._ He let that sit for a moment before peeking over Draco’s chin and at his counterpart. _Now, we should talk about the marriage proposal next. There’s a certain right way of going about that when the time comes, you know. Not just anything will do for a girl this special. You have to plan!_

The Devil stuck his finger in his ear and jiggled it around. _You know, you’re already starting to sound like her. What’s next - coordinated sleep wear? Look, I’m not doing the matchy-matchy thing. That’s just twisted._

Draco turned the ensuing battle volume down to zero in his mind as he held Hermione’s hand and made a beeline for the parents, taking the first steps in their new future together.

  
_~FIN~_

**Author's Note:**

> All units of measure have been converted to American System standards rather than the International Systems of Units (SI - metric) that Britain follows. All spellings follow the standard American English dictionary, rather than the British English dictionary. I chose these changes purposefully because the majority of my readers are from America (~85%). I am also using the American idea of ranking students in a class – i.e. Valedictorian, Salutatorian - for this fic. In Britain, most secondary schools don’t rank students in this manner.
> 
>  
> 
> Budgie smuggler / Sluggos = A small bikini or thong-type speedo worn by men.
> 
> Antiemetic = A drug effective against vomiting and nausea.
> 
> Parthenos = Greek for “Virgin” (παρθένος). Although typically applied to women, like English, it is also applied to men, in both cases specifically denoting absence of sexual experience (specifically, intercourse).
> 
> Philia = Greek for “friendship or brotherly love; includes loyalty to friends, family, and community, and requires virtue, equality and familiarity” (φιλία).
> 
> Revelio = JKR’s spell for Revealing (i.e. Hominem Revelio = Reveal Humans).
> 
> Parthenos Revelio = A spell I invented for the sake of this fic. It is not canon. Used to reveal a person’s virginity status (specifies sexual intercourse). Blue glow indicates the individual is still a virgin. Red glow indicates a person is no longer a virgin.
> 
> Philia Revelio = A spell I invented for the sake of this fic. It is not canon. Use to reveal a person’s feelings of friendship for others.


End file.
